


Praise & Punishment

by BirdInTheMouthOfALion



Series: Something New (Even In The Steadiness Between Us) [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Kink Discovery, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdInTheMouthOfALion/pseuds/BirdInTheMouthOfALion
Summary: Though they've traveled together as friends and then lovers over the years, Geralt is discovering new things about his bard everyday... Snippets of kink discovery, flirting, and Geralt/Jaskier goodness!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Something New (Even In The Steadiness Between Us) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656364
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	Praise & Punishment

It had all begun on a beautiful spring day, Geralt and Jaskier walking side by side, Roach ambling beside them as they continued down the path. Jaskier was composing as they walked, strumming chords on his lute, mumbling rhymes, pausing to consider, and starting the process all over again. Some days Geralt would find this annoying, but it was hard to grumble when the sun was high in the sky, a light breeze carried the sweet smell of flowers in a nearby field, and his bard was clearly in a good mood. The piece he was working on was pleasant as well, something new and different from his usual ballads. The melody plucked and warbled in a quick rhythm, similar to Roach’s hooves when she cantered, and Jaskier would occasionally just stop and hum in harmony with the strings. This carried on until they finally rested for the night. Much to Jaskier’s obvious delight, there was a soft patch of grass and a small stream nearby, and the bard strolled about beaming, until finally settling down again on their shared picnic blanket to continue working on the song. Geralt, having left Roach to graze, sat beside him.  
“It’s nice.”  
Jaskier looked up from his concentration, tongue still poking out from between his teeth as he worked out some complicated fingering, and stared at Geralt. His eyebrows furrowed. “Come again?”  
“Your song,” Geralt gestured to the lute, “I like it.”  
Jaskier gave him a smile in return, but in comparison the jubilant grins he normally made, this smile was uncertain, tenuous at best. The corners of his eyes only twitched as if thinking about crinkling. He looked positively startled.  
Had Geralt never complemented his music before? It was true that he didn’t like all of the bard’s compositions (especially the more exaggerated tales), and that early on in their friendship he had made a particular effort to push Jaskier away in an attempt to persuade the bard to take a better (safer) path, which had involved a fair amount of insults. But Jaskier’s beautiful tenor and deft playing had on many occasions left Geralt in awe, whether it was soft lullabies on a particularly hard night or bawdy folk songs in a rowdy tavern. But gazing back at his lover, who looked like he was having a particularly hard time coming to words, Geralt realized that maybe he needed to be more explicit. Speaking wasn’t his strong suit, but he had come to understand, particularly after the mountain, how much Jaskier needed to hear him say some things aloud.  
“The tune of the chorus is beautiful. It’s like your voice takes flight, and you look so happy singing it, like you’re soaring.”  
Again, seemingly speechless, Jaskier blushed and ducked his head. Never had Geralt seen the bard to reticent to receive a compliment, and he was puzzled for a moment before smelling a sudden wave of arousal roll off his lover, sharp and needy.  
“Do you like that?” Geralt shifted forward, putting his hand on Jaskier’s knee, “Hearing me remind you how talented you are? How beautiful?” Indeed, the arousal crashed heavy in the air, and Geralt felt his mouth water purely in response to the smell, to that blush which trailed down Jaskier’s neck to under his purple doublet.  
“Geralt,” Jaskier murmured, a hand resting lightly on his witcher’s, “don’t tease.” But he leant in, nonetheless. In response, Geralt let the hand on his knee draw further, while using his free hand to catch Jaskier’s chin and tilt his face up so their eyes met.  
“I only speak truth.” A kiss, chaste at first, but with that thrum behind it. Jaskier shifted into his arms, gasping as the kissing grew more intense, as Geralt palmed at him through his trousers.  
“Hmm.” Geralt sighed, “you’re so gorgeous, so responsive. Feel how hard you make me.” Guided the bard’s hands to his own crotch. Jaskier moaned and tugged at the laces, but Geralt was determined to unclothe his lover first, pulling away to unbutton the doublet and tug of his trousers and underclothes until completely nude, flushed and cock dripping, laid back in a long line, head tilted back and neck exposed. Under Geralt’s amber-eyed scrutiny, he flushed but spread his legs wider, inviting.  
“Good.” Geralt rumbled, and watched Jaskier’s cock jolt, precum sliding down the shaft as he bit his lower lip to contain some moan.  
“Don’t hold back,” Geralt made quick work of his own clothes, laying beside the bard and using his own teeth to tug Jaskier’s lower lip free once more, “I want to hear more of the pretty sounds you make.” At this the bard moaned, in part due to the words and in part due to Geralt’s calloused but oh-so-gentle hands stroking down his side, curling around his hips, “I love hearing your pleasure, so good for me, crying my name.”  
“yes…” Jaskier gasped, shaky, and it was all Geralt could do not to lose control at the way the bard’s hips thrusted upwards against his hands, instinctively seeking pleasure against the witcher’s sturdy form. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken so many sentences consecutively, but felt the heady with the knowledge that his words alone held so much pleasure for his lover. “What do you want, songbird?” He asked, and watched patiently as Jaskier struggled to focus, “your cock,” he whimpered, “please, I want to be good.” A surge of love, lust, and protectiveness pulsed through Geralt all at once and he couldn’t help but pause and kiss his lover thoroughly before standing up.  
“I have to go get the oil. When I come back I want you to be in position for me.” And indeed, after retrieving the oil from a saddlebag (Roach eyed him from her patch of grass), the lithe form of Jaskier’s body was propped up for him, on his knees spread out, his head pillowed on his folded arms, ass up with a delicious curve in his back.  
“Beautiful boy,” Geralt hummed, slicking up a finger and dropping to his knees set inside the bard’s, “so handsome and good to me. You take me so well,” the first finger slid in easily as Jaskier mewled, pushing back to meet it, “don’t you?”  
“y-yess.” Geralt crooked that first finger as he slid another digit in to join it, listening to Jaskier’s delightful whines and entreaties, “more, Geralt, please. I want you in me. you feel so good.”  
How could the witcher say no to that? He slicked himself up, trying not to tip over the edge of it being over to soon as he pushed slowly into Jaskier, breathless at the velvety warm tightness around him and the way the bard’s body quivered underneath him as Geralt kissed his spine, the blades of his shoulders, “You feel so good,” and gives a thrust. Jaskier just trembles more, pushes back as they set a pace together, slow at first but quickly growing more frantic. Normally Geralt would take his time teasing, or Jaskier would, if in the mood, taunt the witcher by riding him in a frustratingly slow grind, but neither had the patience or presence of mind for such games, not with this new discovery as Geralt mumbles soft praises and Jaskier keens, so incredibly responsive. It feels like no time at all before Geralt is rocking forward at just the right angle, pressed all the way along Jaskier’s body and panting in his bard’s ear, “my lark, so beautiful, so precious,” and Jaskier is shuddering, is spilling, “Geralt” in a breathy moan and the witcher can’t help himself as the bard tightens around him and he similarly tips over the edge.  
It takes a few long minutes of heavy breathing before Geralt musters up the strength to pull out and turn Jaskier over and tucked up against his side.  
“That was amazing.” Jaskier pants, clumsily kissing Geralt’s cheek and pressing in closer.  
“You’re amazing.” Geralt grumbles in response, running a hand through the bard’s sweat-dampened curls. He gets a swat in response—  
“Unless you’re ready for a round, don’t you start mister.”  
Geralt only snorted in response, but quieted as the two dozed. He eventually got up to start a fire as the night grew darker and colder, and it wasn't until after dinner as he laid out their bedrolls that Jaskier, lute still in hand, wandered up and kissed him again. "All that pleasantness aside," the bard smiled, "it means a lot to me that you like my singing." As if to embellish his point, he gave a careful strum.  
"It's like," Geralt admits, "ordering a pie and finding it has the most delicious filling."  
The lute was set aside as Jaskier's lit up, practically glowing in the light of the slowly dwindling fire.  
They did not, it turns out, get much sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment to your author, oh valley of plenty! I also take requests/prompts for future fics!


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